Sherlock Series 3, Episode 1: The Ghost of London
by chalkieandlarry
Summary: Sherlock returns to London after receiving a one sentence text: "Richard Brooks' body has been found." AU Series 3


A/N: An alternative series three storyline created by my friend and I, in what we call the "Molly Matters" universe. We are merely posting a teaser (like an episode starter) to gauge interest in this entire storyline. Please read and let us know what you think!

Twilight fell upon the lively London skyline, amber laden across the darkening horizon. The streets were bustling with life still, with people still shuffling in the streets – some heading home, others leaving for a long night of partying and debauchery. The entire city glittered with the lights from buildings, headlights, and streetlamps; they were the stars that spread across this heaven on earth. Yet, not all had the opportunity to bask in the night life.

Luke Waters, a lab assistant at St. Bart's, was working overtime to help run bacteria cultures Molly Hooper had ordered for examination the next day. He had been particularly bothered to find out that he would need to stay an hour after to mind the machines, but honestly it could have been worse. He had called his wife to inform her of the delay, and was well chuffed to realize that she wasn't too disappointed by the development. After a few sweet nothings, Luke set his mobile aside and returned to filling out forms, humming quietly to himself as he listened to the racket of passing cars just outside the window.

A few minutes passed, and his mobile began to ring. Without looking up from his form, he grinned, and answered the call.

"Had a feeling you wouldn't be able to take not talking to me for too long, sweetheart," he murmured in a sensual voice, a small chuckle expelling from his lips.

Moments later, his eyes widened as an unfamiliar and similarly deep voice responded: "If only your wife knew," with a lewd chuckle following after.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

"This is Luke Waters, correct?"

Luke furrowed his brows. "Yes – who is this?"

"Excellent. Do me a favor, Luke, would you please stand and approach cabinet number twelve-"

"Excuse me? Absolutely not –who is this?"

Luke blinked slowly as he heard a loud, exasperated sigh on the other end of the mobile. He momentarily pulled the phone away, looking at the screen. "BLOCKED NUMBER" it read.

"I'm too tired to be playing these games, Luke."

A moment of silence lapsed between them before Luke's features scrunched up in annoyance. "Alright. Very funny. Get a life, kid. I'm hanging up."

He lowered his phone, about to end the call, when he heard: "Your wife looks beautiful in her pantsuit. Rare for a girl of her size to be able to look so good – but she fills it out just nicely."

Luke froze and his fingers tightened around the edges of his mobile. Briefly his lips tightened, and he lifted the phone to his ear yet again. "What did you say?" his whisper was strained.

"And your daughter – she's quite cute. Around ten years old now?-"

"What are you getting at!?"

"Nothing, if you will be a good boy and listen. Do you think you can do that, Luke?"

Luke swallowed hard, and glanced toward the window as he watched another car roll by. Pedestrians continued to amble down the sidewalk, and on the street nothing seemed remiss. A flutter of breath escaped his lips, but before he could respond, the voice was speaking again.

"Good. Now, as I told you, go to cabinet number twelve. There should be a body bag inside. Retrieve it, set it on one of the tables. Understood?"

Luke stood from his seat. "I'll do fuck all until you let me talk to my wife! What have you done to my family?!" his voice was quiet, but seething with rage, as the rest of his body almost wanted to cave in from the panic thrumming through his veins.

The voice, on the other hand, only seemed mildly annoyed. "Can I tell you something interesting, Luke? Currently, the human trafficking network in Germany is suffering due to a lack of commodities being readily available for purchase. It's getting harder and harder to smuggle people into the country – do you know how valuable little Katie would be? Ten-year-olds last a while, you see. They're quite the investment. Now if you could imagine her-"

"Christ! Stop- Stop. I'm doing it. Just- just hold on."

"It'd be smarter for you to keep your mouth shut for the rest of this exchange, Luke. I'm a patient man, but I have a temper, and you do not want to see me when I've lost it."

And Luke did just that. Balancing the phone against his shoulder, Luke shuffled toward the double doors on the other side of the room. Upon entrance, he frantically searched for cabinet number twelve; located just across from the end table on the other end of the room. An unnaturally cheery humming entered his ear, and he attempted to ignore it as he pulled the long drawer from its compartment. He coughed loudly at the rather strong, nauseating smell wafting to his nose, and he doubled back. The surprise jostled him enough to drop his mobile, and as it collided with the floor, he could hear the voice suddenly chiding him in a loud, high pitched voice: "Careful!"

Luke stared at the body bag for a long moment before sucking in a pained breath and approaching it yet again. With a grunt, he took the entire package into his arms, before transporting it to a titanium table nearby. Gasping, he returned to his phone, and brought it to his ear again.

The voice did not miss a beat. "Good boy. Now, open it up. There should be a USB drive hanging about its neck. Remove it, and then stand there – silently -" the voice emphasized this word, throwing it on a higher pitch, with a tone laden with irritation, before continuing on, "It won't be for long. You have a visitor coming."

The coolness of the other man's voice was enough to turn his insides into ice. Anxiety crept across his skin, its spindly fingers taking tight grip of his entire form, and constricting him until he was sure he could no longer move. But he had to – he had to do what he was told. Setting the mobile upon the table, Luke held his breath again as he quickly unzipped the body bag, but was not ready to look upon the horror tucked just inside. Luke had often assisted Molly on assignments before, but usually the bodies looked natural, like they had fallen asleep – their pale bodies, limp and lifeless, retained some amount of pleasantness to them, or at least enough to keep him disarmed.

However this – this was a vision of something much more unnatural. It barely looked human at all, and yet its human-like qualities had yet to deteriorate. It was as close to demonic as Luke was ever going to witness, and he did not relish the moment. He could feel himself gagging, and was helpless to peel his eyes away from the ghastly contortion of flesh upon the corpse's face. Then, he heard the sound of hurried footsteps close by. He forced himself to look away from the horrid sight and find the USB tied about its neck. Roughly, Luke broke it from its strap as he took the phone in hand once more. With both being tightly held in either hand, he turned to the door as it opened.

The scene was not exactly how Molly Hooper had expected to find it. In fact, Luke was not the person she'd anticipated seeing at all. She went through the usual motions: First, confusion, followed by slight disappointment, before her eyes finally registered what she was really looking at. Luke was standing close to an open body bag, posture tense, with one fist clenched and the other holding his mobile to his ear. His stare was steely, lips pressed tight together, and by his expression she swore he was intently listening to something – she just didn't know what.

"What're you doing, Luke?" Molly asked, attempting to school her voice to a gentle calm, as she stepped closer to him.

Luke said nothing. His neck twitched briefly, and his gaze escaped hers as he craned his neck to look toward the window. Stiffly, he moved, rounding the table to approach the window and open it. Then, he returned to his post, just as silent as he had been before. Molly's eyes traveled to the window, and the cavalcade of noise from the outside world flooded in seamlessly. However, she was suddenly brought back to the situation at hand when Luke approached, offering his mobile to her.

"He wants to speak to you."

Molly's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

Luke didn't answer. He gestured to his outstretched arm, urging her to take the phone. Deftly, her fingers wrapped about it, and answered with a simple and timid: "Sherlock?"

A low, dark chuckle came from the other end of the line. "Afraid not." There was a beat of a pause. "Are you watching?"

Molly blinked and stared at Luke, her lips twisting into a frown. "Y-Yes."

A loud, piercing popping noise pervaded the room. Molly's eyes immediately jumped to the outside window, having thought it was the sound of a car backfire. Passersby must have thought similarly, as they stopped in their strolls to stare out towards the streets, murmuring amongst themselves, as the flood of traffic outside continued to roar with a rancorous clamor. However, a split second passed, and another, much more terrifying noise emerged. A gargling noise, followed by a strained gasp, before Luke's body slumped forward and collided with the tiles beneath their feet.

Time slowed to a crawl, and Molly's breathing hitched in her throat. Her ears began to ring, and her eyes stared squarely at the gaping wound left in Luke's head, as blood quickly began to pool about his face. Her breathing quickened to an unnatural pace, and her eyes widened as she looked out the window. Life bustled on, and the booming noise had been dismissed, unaware of the Hell that had just made visit to Molly. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth, and she let out a soft whimper and she stepped back away from the line of blood that slowly crept towards her shoes.

The world about her swam with a cacophony of horrid noises, until her ears keened to the sound of a voice calling out to her from the mobile. The man on the other line was saying her name repeatedly, in an almost immature tone of voice. With difficulty, she was able to gather enough composure to let out another distressed cry and answer: "What did you do...?"

"Oh good, you're with me. Now, be a darling and fetch the USB drive from his hand. Quickly now."

Molly hesitated, her mind still swimming, but she feared for her own life more than anything. She forced herself to move, and stooped down low enough to attempt to pry his clenched hand open. However, she quickly found herself unbalanced, and fell forward, crushing his body beneath her, and saturating herself in the sticky and warm liquid seeping from his head. She let out another cry, throwing herself back, and quickly taking the USB with her, before scrambling back against the wall. She was stopped short by the body cabinets, a loud rattling noise ensuing as she collided with it.

"Does the computer in the lab work?"

Molly could not look away from Luke's lifeless form. So many times now she had been face to face with death, unafraid, often times even curious to the nature of this phenomenon. Death was a force of unmerciful reckoning, and it had not been until now that Molly truly appreciated the nature of the beast. It was like a switch had been turned off, leaving a body once full of vitality to slump into a pile of useless, immobile flesh. The clockwork had stopped. The cogs no longer turned. Luke was no longer living.

"J-Jesus Christ – what have you done... Oh god – oh god please..."

"Molly dear, answer me now. I'm getting impatient."

Molly clenched her eyes shut and a loud gasp escaped her lips. "Yes! Yes the computer works!"

"Hop to it, then, Molly Hooper. You haven't much time."

Molly shook her head and took in another shuddering breath. She scrambled to get her trembling body standing, but didn't have enough strength to stand upon her own two feet. Her fingers desperately clung to the body cabinet, and she pressed her face into the cool titanium surface, unable to look at the crumbled mess that was heaped upon the floor. She was sticky with Luke's blood, smearing it everywhere in her terror and panic. The smell was pungent in the air, and with another gasp, Molly began to weep.

"No tears now, my dear. No tears. You have too much to do," the voice teased. "I mean it. That USB contains your instructions. You only have a few hours yet, and you don't want to know what will happen if you fail me."

Molly swallowed hard, and pressed her cheek closer to the mobile's screen as she peeked at Luke's body once more.

"Wh-Who are you...?" She asked, the question riding on the wave of a breathy gasp.

The voice merely laughed.

"A friend," was all it answered, before the line broke into silence. The call had ended.

Carefully, Molly sunk to the floor once more, as she allowed the mobile to slip from her bloodied fingers. It clashed to the floor with a harsh clattering noise, Molly followed it down. The sounds of active London, lively London, breathing London, continued to waft through the open window, a thriving cacophony filling the room with its clamor, echoing against the walls and flooding Molly's ears. She blinked her tear stained eyes, and swallowed the bitter taste of the bile she was holding back, as she retrieved her own mobile from her pocket.

Her screen flashed with light as her mind filled with darkness, the disbelief close to choking her. She scanned the contents of the text she had received before arriving. A text that had clearly not come from who she'd thought.

TO: Molly Hooper

FROM: Private Number

I require your assistance at St. Bart's. You know where. Hurry.

SH


End file.
